


Courting Misadventure

by Zither



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Don't Try This At Home, F/F, Festivals, Fluff, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zither/pseuds/Zither
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't need a mask to have fun on Festival Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courting Misadventure

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ficlet for Halloween/Festival of the Lost last year; alas, life happened and I didn't quite manage to finish/post it. Better late than never, right? (Yes, I could have waited until October _this_ year, but I'm impatient and need a happy antidote to the sad fic I'm working on. Plus, there can never be too much Eriana-3/Wei Ning in the world!)

“Sweet.”

“Well, of course it’s sweet.” Eriana’s face lit up with disappointment. “It’s a sweet.”

“Doesn’t mean it has to be a _sweet_ sweet,” Wei said, kicking her feet idly where they dangled in space. One of the nearby pigeons took flight in a startled flurry. “Some of them are sour, and then there was that salty one I had to spit out... I bet it’s lodged in some poor cit’s skull down below now. Which would be your fault, just so we’re clear.”

“All that mess-hall mush early on must have ruined your palate.” Eriana folded her arms, both to communicate disapproval and to show off the fact that she was now holding on with just her legs. “Think of those Dark Age pilgrim serials. _The Frame and the Soldier?_ Alis-4 gazing at the warlord’s lavish banquet with wistful, dimming eyes, so Lyubov tastes every single dish on her behalf and rattles off a little poem about each of them? That one act of kindness gave her the strength to keep pushing toward the City.” Wringing her hands in perfect mimicry of the play's heroine, Eriana gave Wei a soulful look. “What if, deep down inside, I just want to be human?”

“Sure. You’re a tragic figure, you are.” The serious expression Eriana wore couldn't hold. When Wei stuck out her tongue, it shifted into a smirk. “And you heckled all the way through that scene. I had to stop Romagne from punching you in the face.”

“By punching him in the face. I remember. That was much more entertaining than the screen.” Several levels down, a window flew open. Amidst loud, indistinct cheers, someone started making a valiant effort to scramble out of it. Wei caught the briefest glimpse of a Saint-14 mask before three sets of hands converged on the climber and drew them back inside. A scattered chorus of boos arose.

“My first cohort would have pushed –“ she began, and then gave a cry. “Oh! I forgot. While you were at that lecture on making big explosions bigger – yeah, fusion, sorry not sorry - I saw two babies dressed as us. Full costume, not just masks.”

“Don’t mock my suffering,” Eriana said, flashing sapphire in exasperation. “I’ll drag you in there again and tell them you’re my notetaker - wait, you're serious? They were wearing our faces?”

Grinning, Wei nodded. “Some Firebreak spark still out of breath from her first drill and a Praxic apprentice who moved like she’d been born yesterday. Swear on the sky, I felt their Light gutter when they saw me. I thought they were going to fade out before my eyes and I’d have to help pull them back.” She hitched one shoulder in a lazy half-shrug. “They had us the wrong way round, but I think it was supposed to be a joke.”

“You weren’t offended?”

“ _No,”_ Wei said, with more emphasis than she had intended. Eriana’s cheeks darkened a little. Her eyes still shone; trying to meet them made the nape of Wei’s neck feel uncomfortably hot, almost as bad as when she miscalculated and got too close to a full radiance. She glanced down, fixing her own gaze on the faint patch of brilliance that marked out some citizen street party, and felt an uncharacteristic flutter of vertigo. “I mean, I would have been, but that Praxic kid made a decent enough job of it. She said she ran out of scarlet for my chestplate, so she had to use the vermilion instead.”

“Could you tell?”

“It all looked pretty red from where I was standing.” Wei shrugged again, then broke into a laugh. “Can you believe it? Next year, we might be one of those mask packs they sell in bulk. Just imagine: a legion of me and an order of you.”

“But we’re not even lost,” Eriana said. Much to Wei’s disappointment, the image of an adoring fan army did not seem to move her. “We’re as unlost as Guardians ever get.”

“You don’t have to be lost. You just have to be legendary.”

“We’re not that, either.”

“We’re on our way.” If Eriana didn't feel like revelling in smugness, Wei was more than happy to do it for both of them. “One of Gatewatch was complaining a few days ago, told me he couldn’t get the latest batch of newborns to shut up about Gib.” She let a second or two go by for effect, then added, “We’re the best.”

“Better than the best, whoever they are, but – huh. I thought it stopped at a few tradespeople wearing our colours in the off season.” Eriana cast a wary glance at the lights below, as if they were a monster rising up to swallow her. ”All of a sudden, I feel like the City’s staring back at me.”

“It should be,” Wei said. This time, the fierceness was intentional. She hadn’t known what she wanted to say; wasn’t even sure the words fit right. Eriana's eyes were on her now, as intent as if her face carried its own illumination. The Light she projected felt warmer than usual, in sharp contrast to the night air surrounding them.

“We can go down there, if you like.” There was a trace of static underneath the words. It smoothed out as Eriana went on speaking. “Pick any one of a hundred parties.”

“I like to be high up.” It was a weak excuse, but Wei wasn’t sure why she didn’t feel like joining in the group celebrations this year. “Anyway, I don’t have a mask yet.”

“Your face would be enough,” Eriana said, and earned herself a gentle punch in the arm. “Ow! You dent it, you buff it out. I meant because you’re such a legend, of course.”

“Of course.” A shout from further down caught Wei’s attention. For a moment, she thought someone had spotted them, but then it rang out again: a name she didn’t know. Another party winding up. The lure of freefall tugged at her, but she put it aside. As precise as her aim might be in the field, she wasn’t sure how well she would fare when it came to _not_ landing on top of a large, densely-packed crowd of people.

“I know what you're thinking,” Eriana said. Her face flickered, began to pale. Before they met, Wei hadn't even considered how many different names there were for blue. What was this one called? Steel? “Tower jump? First to the bottom?”

“You said it, not me.” Just like that, the lure was back and winning. Voice of reason had never been a good look on her, anyway. She gestured out into open space. “See that balcony? Twelve storeys down, all strung about with green lanterns? If we aimed right for it, we wouldn’t need masks to scare the skin off their bones.”

“We mess the timing up,” Eriana said, “and there’s no way we’ll survive a fall from this height.” She paused, calculations running like bright water through her seams. “Nor will the balcony, come to think.”

“Balconies can be replaced,” Wei said. “So can bodies.”

“Hell, why not? It’s been – what - three and a half months since we were last dragged before the Vanguard? They must think we’re losing our touch.” With that, Eriana straightened up. She shuffled sideways along the ledge, sank into a crouch, and dropped - graceful as an old-world ballerina, for all that she hated dancing in front of people. Clinging to the side of the Tower with one hand, she leant backwards in a diver's pose.

They'd pulled off far more ridiculous stunts before. Even if they didn't, it wouldn't matter. The worst that could happen was a quick rez at the foot of the Tower; last time, their Ghosts had made them walk all the way back up. There was no reason for Wei to feel an urge to reach out for Eriana, as if they had anything to worry about. As if she were the sort of person who worried at all, or would ever hesitate to leap in head-first.

“Careful.” The word came out teasing, much to Wei's relief. Her voice wasn't to be trusted tonight. “That’s dangerous.”

“Damn right it is,” said Eriana, and let go.

 


End file.
